


Catch Me Like A Cold

by EvensDramaticShenanigans



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 3k of me channeling my feelings about class today lmao, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Human Disaster Bucky Barnes, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sick Bucky Barnes, Sick Steve, it's just a cold people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 19:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16102466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvensDramaticShenanigans/pseuds/EvensDramaticShenanigans
Summary: A particularly phlegmy sniff has Bucky’s tolerance completely snapping in half. His grip on his pen is so tight now he can feel the plastic beginning to give way. He throws it down and spins around in his seat. It bangs against the edge of the table, pulling the attention of many of Bucky’s classmates. He doesn't care, though, the only thing he’s worried about is the damn sniffer and his damn nose.“For the love of god, get a god damned tissue!” Bucky practically growls.





	Catch Me Like A Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends!! So, if y’all haven’t noticed yet, this fic is NOT a fill for happy steve bingo. This is just a little something that came to me in class this morning when I was sitting in my very own criminal law and procedure class and the guy behind me wouldn’t stop doing that obnoxious snorting sniffle thing. I was ready to throttle him tbh lol. I suppose I do owe him a thanks though, because had it not been for his annoying sounds this fic wouldn’t be a thing, so thanks pal. I’ll give him this too though: he dropped his pencil and couldn’t reach it so at the end of class he asked me to get it for him and i got to see his face and yeah, he was pretty cute. 
> 
> But yeah, this is just 3k of me channeling my inner thoughts and frustrations about class this morning into Bucky. He is literally me in this fic. Well, minus the part where a cute boy actually talks to him and asks him out lol. If I write it into existence will it happen to me too?? No? Damn. 
> 
> Anywaysssss, I put the current bingo fill I was working on on hold to whip this baby out and now that it’s done and up I’m going back to that fic!! I’m hoping to have it up by the end of this week but no promises as my weekend’s going to be p busy. If it’s not up sometime this week though then I can say with about 75% confidence that I’ll have it up next week! 
> 
> This is unbetaed, as usual. All mistakes are my own!
> 
> Title comes from [Hurricane](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XK5HfNp9Eq4) by Panic! At The Disco.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

Bucky clutches his travel mug of coffee like a lifeline as he slides gracelessly into his usual seat in the front row of the lecture hall. With heavy limbs he drags his notebook from the depths of his backpack and fishes out the first pen he can find. Then he all but faceplants against the desktop and lets his eyes shut until class starts.  

His professor, bless her soul, is a very technology inept person, and her inability to get the projector to work causes her to have to give the lecture entirely on the whiteboards. Without a set of slides to copy into his notebook, Bucky has a hard time paying attention, and subsequently, an even harder time staying awake. 

The coffee helps, only a little though. He runs out far too quickly. And caffeine, as powerful as it is, can only get him so far on this particular morning. 

In theory, Bucky should be grateful for the sharp, sudden sniffing sound coming from behind him. It’s loud enough to catch his attention and to stop him from nodding off. However, it’s  _ gross _ . And it keeps happening every few seconds. And it’s starting to grate on Bucky’s nerves. 

He’s just trying to listen to his professor explain the difference between simple and aggravated assault, but he’s having a hard time focusing on her voice when the fucking nuisance behind him keeps snorting like that. 

Bucky attempts to ignore it. Tries to throw himself into the lecture, to focus on everything but the sounds behind him. It’s so hard though. His professor’s voice is so monotonous, and she keeps repeating herself to drive each point home. The only thing it’s driving is Bucky crazy. Each little cough and sniff he hears has Bucky wincing and grinding his teeth together as he tries to calm the bubbling irritation simmering just below his skin. His fist clenches around his pen. Desperately, he wants to turn and glare at the guy, to stare daggers at him until he catches on and recognizes what he’s doing and stops. 

But he doesn't. He doesn't because he knows that if he does he wont be able to bite his tongue. He’s tired, going on barely three hours of sleep, which means he’s cranky. And human interaction whilst cranky must be minimal lest Bucky lash out. And lashing out is inevitable with this sick idiot. Bucky’s already got some choice thoughts about him right now, and his brain to mouth filter certainly isn't prepared to handle that at the time being.

Of course, Bucky’s “no turning around” policy doesn't last. He tries, he really does. But after listening to the increasingly gross noises for nearly a whole hour now, it really takes its toll. It definitely doesn't help that halfway through the class the girl two seats away from him pulls out a bag of apple slices and starts crunching her way through them. It only serves to make Bucky’s blood boil even more. 

A particularly phlegmy sniff has Bucky’s tolerance completely snapping in half. His grip on his pen is so tight now he can feel the plastic beginning to give way. He throws it down and spins around in his seat. It bangs against the edge of the table, pulling the attention of many of Bucky’s classmates. He doesn't care, though, the only thing he’s worried about is the damn sniffer and his damn nose.

Bucky’s sure that he looks a little crazy. He hasn’t gotten much sleep the past few nights thanks to the pile of projects and tests and assignments his professors have collectively dumped on him, so he’s got bags under his frenzied, probably slightly bloodshot eyes. His hair is a stringy, greasy mess that falls wildly around his face. He’s got three days worth of five o’clock shadow— can it even be called that anymore?— and he’s so amped up on caffeine he’s surprised he hasn't started twitching or anything. He looks homeless, he’s sure of it, and he wouldn’t be surprised if someone mistakes him for a druggie. 

The man looks spooked, even jumps in his seat a little as Bucky slams his hands down on either side of his notebook. The sniffing, Bucky notices, has stopped. 

“Sir, if you could take your seat please, there’s still fifteen minutes left of class,” his professor says, sounding a bit startled herself. 

Bucky’s eyes zero in on the man’s bright blue ones, not bothering to pay his professor’s request any attention. He’s too irritated to fully appreciate how nice the guy’s eyes are. 

“For the love of god, get a god damned tissue!” Bucky practically growls at him.

A silence follows his outburst— from Bucky, from the man, from the whole class, which seems as though everyone collectively holds their breath. 

The rage clouding Bucky starts to dissipate as he comes down from his anger, and he finally gets a clear look st the sniffing culprit. And— shit. He’s pretty, like insanely pretty. Blonde, mussed hair; sparkling blue eyes; jaw like a knife. And the pink hue of his cheeks looks so good on him the way it’s creeping down his neck and below his collar— but it also sends a pang of regret through Bucky because, holy shit, he just made a complete fool of this boy in front of the whole class, made a complete fool of  _ himself _ in front of the whole class,  _ and  _ the pretty boy.

Oh god. 

Bucky’s mouth snaps shut and he can feel his own blush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. His ears feel like they’re on fire, and he’s glad his hair is long enough to hide that. 

“Sir, if you’re kindly done shouting at that poor boy could you please take your seat so I can get on with the lesson?” His professor says, her voice stern yet still sounding like she’s speaking to a child. 

Bucky pulls his hands back from the man’s desk and he wipes his palms awkwardly on his thighs. He spares a glance around the classroom only to find several of his classmates giggling quietly and whispering with their heads bent together. A wave of shame passes over Bucky, and he quickly snatches up his notebook and backpack, leaving his pen abandoned on the desktop. He heads straight for the door. He doesn't look back. 

 

Bucky pointedly skips class on Thursday. And the following Tuesday.  _ And _ the Thursday that week too. He doesn’t usually like skipping classes, always feels like he’ll miss something important if he does. Not to mention, catching up with that missed curriculum is so much worse than just ponying up and suffering through the class in the first place.

But, his embarrassment far outweighs his desire to be a good student. He’s not sure he can show his face in that classroom again— at least, not until the memory has mostly faded. Bucky knows that his reaction was totally over the top and totally uncalled for. There’s not much he can do about it now, and truth be told, there wasn’t much he could’ve done to stop it in the moment either. He had been like a pot of water, boiling on the heat of his irritation until it got to be too much and he bubbled over.

In the end, Bucky has every intention of returning to class after a full week of avoiding it like the plague. He likes to think that a week seems like enough time for the whole thing to blow over. College students have better things to do than hang onto something like that and hold it over his head, right? Bucky hopes. Granted, it’s not the rest of his classmates’ reactions he’s most worried about. Okay, maybe he cares a little because he’s prone to seeing some of these people in classes down the line since this is a major specific class. But he’s mostly just worried about seeing the guy he yelled at. Bucky hadn’t stuck around to see what kind of a reaction he had after the shock wore off, and he’s not really looking forward to seeing it now. 

But Tuesday morning rolls around, and Bucky wakes to his alarm with a stuffed nose, a sore throat, and a bone rattling cough. And god, if this isn't one big, karma filled “fuck you" from the universe. 

Being sick is the worst, especially as a college student. However, Bucky is able to find a silver lining to his situation: he doesn’t have to go back to class yet. So, against his better judgement, hs skips. 

Another whole week passes by of Bucky missing his criminal law and procedure class, but he’s not panicking about it. His roommate, Sam, knows a guy in the class, and he’s been getting Bucky the notes through him. That means Bucky’s been able to take the online quizzes and tests without the fear of stumbling upon a question concerning a topic solely discussed in class.

It’s only when he receives an email from his professor warning him that any more absences will lead to a detrimental drop in his grade that Bucky faces the facts. 

 

When Bucky walks into the classroom on his first day back since his blowup, he’s relieved that other than a few lingering stares and a giggle or two, no one really pays him any extra attention than usual. After slipping into his seat, he spares a glance around the classroom. There’s no sign of the guy he yelled at, but Bucky spots the redhead that was sitting with him when it happened. She catches his eye and lifts a thin eyebrow, and Bucky immediately faces forward again. 

Right as does so, however, the cute sniffler walks in. Bucky’s breath catches in his throat and he averts his eyes down to his notebook and ducks his head, letting his long hair fall in front of his eyes enough to hide his face. He busies himself by fiddling with his phone. 

“Steve,” a woman’s voice calls, and Bucky catches the guy—  _ Steve _ perk up and wave at someone behind Bucky. Probably the redhead. 

Bucky lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when Steve tromps up the steps to the row behind Bucky and walks past him without even sparing him a glance. 

His professor manages to get the projector to work this time, thank god. Though, truth be told, Bucky wouldn’t have minded another whiteboard lecture today. The slower pace would have been nice today. He’s having trouble keeping up with the slides and copying everything down thanks to his runny nose. He keeps having to pause to wipe at it with a tissue from the pocket sized pack he brought with him. 

Everything’s going as good as it can given the circumstances. That is, until about halfway through class Bucky runs out of tissues. He’s scribbling down the definition of a vice crime with one hand while he reaches for the tissues with the other, but his pen freezes when his fingers hit plastic wrap instead of tissue. 

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath. Then, as carefully and quietly as possible, Bucky does the only thing he really can do at this point: he sniffles. The sound isn’t nearly as loud and grating as Steve’s sniffling had been, but it’s not exactly quiet either. 

It happens way more than he wants, but he can’t help it. It’s either sniff or let his snot drip all over his notebook, and he really  _ really _ doesn’t like the sound of that. 

Bucky’s almost made it through the entire class without causing too much of a disruption, but the universe must still be working against him because the next time he sniffs, his airway clears much faster than he expected and he ends up making a loud honking noise. Bucky winces hard enough that his eyes scrunch up a little. A pair of girls to his right titter into their hands, but other than that it doesn’t seem like anyone’s going to make a big deal out of it— not like he did with Steve.

But then there’s a finger poking into Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky’s whole body stiffens under it. He doesn’t turn around at first, just stares down at his notebook and silently wishes for the ground to swallow him whole because he it comes. Here comes the retaliation. 

There’s another tap at Bucky’s shoulder, this one a little more insistent, and Bucky decides it’s now or never. Best to just get it over with. Slowly, he turns in his chair. He’s half expecting to see Steve towering over him, maybe fixing Bucky with a glare of his own. What he sees instead, is entirely different. 

Steve’s still sitting in his chair, and there’s not a glare on his face. In fact, he looks almost sympathetic. It kind of throws Bucky off. Steve’s in a cozy looking hoodie today with a baseball cap covering most of his hair, and for a brief moment Bucky gets lost in the image of just how soft he looks. It’s not until Steve clears his throat and shakes his hand that Bucky realizes he’s holding something. 

A pack of tissues. 

Bucky feels a blush bloom across his cheeks, and he does his best not to duck behind his curtain of hair instead of facing Steve like he knows he should.

“Took your advice,” Steve whispers, sympathy melting away to reveal something almost coy. “Sounds like you could use a few, though,” he says, wiggling the pack again. 

Bucky presses his lips together, but lets the corners twitch up in a thankful smile as he accepts the pack from Steve. “Thanks,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” Steve replies. Then he leans back in his seat and his eyes flicker back up to the lecture slides. 

  
  


By the time the end of class rolls around, Bucky’s nose isn’t as runny as before, but his throat hurts a little more from all the sniffling. He’s more than ready to pack his shit up, make the walk back to his apartment, and collapse into bed. 

He’s in the middle of shoving his notebook into his backpack and running through his mental movie list for something good to watch when he feels another tap on his shoulder. It’s lighter this time and it’s more on the side of his arm than his actual shoulder, which clues him in to the fact that whoever it is— and he has a pretty good idea as to who— is standing beside him rather than sitting behind him.

“I, uh, believe those tissues are mine,” a deep, honey smooth voice says, and it’s close enough to send a few shivers zipping down Bucky’s spine. Bucky instantly recognizes it as Steve’s voice.

It also sends a hot flush of embarrassment through his body that he desperately tries to fight off. “Right,” Bucky says with a curt nod. His back is still to Steve, and he sucks in a slow, calming breath before turning to face him. He’s much closer than Bucky anticipated. “Here you go,” he says, holding the tissues out for Steve to take. 

Steve’s hand closes around the tissues, but he lets it linger there for a moment, fingers brushing with Bucky’s, before he finally takes it. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face, and it’s soft and sweet. 

There’s an awkward silence that stretches between the two of them for a few seconds before they both go to break it at the same time.

“So I—”

“I’m sorry—” 

“Sorry,” Steve says, laughing softly. “Go ahead.”

“Right, um, look,” Bucky starts, wringing his hands together in front of himself. “About the other day… I didn’t mean to snap at you. Really. I was just, I hadn’t gotten much sleep and, like, you ever get in those moods where every little thing just grates on you? Well, it was one of those kinds of days and you just, well, you happened to be there for me to take it out on. And I definitely shouldn’t have done that, so I’m sorry for that.” 

“I kinda figured you weren’t having a great day,” Steve responds with a small shrug of his shoulders. “You definitely caught me off guard, though,” he adds with a laugh. “God, Natasha wouldn’t stop making fun of how big my eyes got, apparently.”

Bucky snorts and doesn’t try to stop the grin from spreading across his face. “They did get pretty big,” he says.

Steve bumps his shoulder into Bucky’s playfully and rolls his eyes. “I mean, if you really are sorry I can think of a way for you to make it up to me…” he trails off and bites down on his lip, his eyes wide and hopeful as he looks at Bucky.

“Oh?” Bucky says. “What’s that?” He asks curiously. 

“Well,” Steve starts. “I know this great little teashop off campus. It’s got some great herbals that are really good for colds— sore throats and the likes. I’m still kind of getting over my cold, and, well, you seem to have caught it. So I was just thinking… let me take you there?” 

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He’d been prepared for a lot of different requests, most to do with doing Steve’s homework or buying him a whole crate of ramen packets, but a… date… hadn’t been one of them. It’s a nice surprise though, and Bucky finds himself warming up to the idea very quickly. “Are you… asking me out? Even after I yelled at you?” He asks. It’s probably stupid, to be pointing that out. Reminding the cute boy who just asked you out about how you embarrassed him in front of everyone isn’t exactly the most brilliant way of replying. 

But Steve just nods. His head is tilted to the side a little, and he’s got a shy, hopeful look settled over his face. Frankly, it’s fucking adorable. “I guess I am,” he confirms casually.

“In that case,” Bucky starts, and the idea of sitting in a warm, cozy tea shop across from Steve getting to know each other past the student fronts, maybe sharing a scone or a danish— it sounds fantastic. “You wouldn’t happen to have a class after this one, would you?”

Steve lights up, and his answering grin is so bright it makes his dimples pop. He shakes his head to answer Bucky. “No more classes for the day,” he confirms. 

“Great, then what are we waiting for?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think with a kudos and a comment!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Come say [hi](http://brooklynbabybucky.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> And come check out this cool [discord](https://discordapp.com/invite/8gybKrj) for marvel content creators! You can find more information @marvelcreatorsnetwork on tumblr or feel free to ask about it in the comments!


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